I have struggled with major clinical depression for years now. What seems like endless times of changing medication, as well as, doses has become as regular to me as changing the sheets on my bed. I was also trying to complete a university degree while all of this was (and still) going on. These changes in medication would have their moments of keeping me, not well, but functional enough to handle the tasks that come along with studying at a university level.
But then, after a while, those moments arise yet again. They always do. The moments that your doctor, not a specialist, but GP (because some of them are under the impression that they’re qualified enough, with the knowledge, to diagnose and treat people suffering from mental illnesses, all by themselves (without any further, at the minimum, consultation, with other medical professionals) believes that the reoccurrence of these debilitating, horribly destructive things that are happening inside us, only requires a simple increase and/or change in medication.
And also, of course, going out for a walk to get some fresh air, so that your body can release those (ever so great) endorphins. Why do they always say that? Go for a walk. Like that’s the cure to all of our problems and various illnesses. A walk. Yet, this is what they say. I learned a long time ago, that there’s no point in trying to explain to them that it’s deeper than that, more serious. I fucking took a walk just getting to this useless appointment! Yet there I am. Dragging my feet to the pharmacist, and picking up yet another stronger dose of medication.